Page 46 of The Faceless Queen

Erys nuzzled his fuzzy head against me.

“You did well, Erys,” the Hermit said. “Now go home.”

But Erys continued to stare at me, his wings lifting and rubbing together behind his back. I blinked away fresh tears. “It’s okay. You can go, Erys,” I said, my voice cracking. “You did a good job.”

He rubbed his head against my stomach one more time, and then he turned, lifting into the air, his moonstone blue wings glowing in the sun. Then he looked back, just once, before soaring north to Azeal.

“Come. I promised you a meal.” The Hermit charged forward, walking down a darkened path. It led to a small mountain, harsh and gray, with a small opening at the foot leading into a cave. The Hermit continued on, leading into the mouth.

I walked behind him, careful to keep my hood over my head as my cloak wove its camouflage magic, blending my body into the trees and grass. Until we were inside the cave and I was barely more than a shadow.

“Is she here?” he asked suddenly.

“Who?” I asked.

But a female voice in the dark answered. “She is. Just now arrived and chained.”

Chained?

“All is exactly as you asked for. Exactly as planned.” A torch flared to life, the flames hissing, and I found myself standing between the Hermit and another witch. One I somehow knew within seconds, was just like him. Hundreds of years old. A witch from the old world, a survivor of the Doom.

Her skin was tan where the Hermit’s was pale, sometimes translucent even. And her hair shone a red so deep it was almost purple. A dress made entirely of seashells hung from her body. It was unlike anything I’d ever seen before. When witches were banned from Eskalon, driven into the wilds that became Azeal, we’d lost our access to the ocean, to the source of our power. And to things like seashells. I could barely process the idea of a witch reaching the ocean freely, much less being able to collect enough of them to create an entire dress. Whoever she was, she was powerful. Like the Hermit. Ancient.

So why hadn’t I ever heard of her, or seen her?

“We meet again,” she said, her violet eyes looking me up and down.

I stilled. “We’ve never met.”

She shook her head. “Not in this life,” she crooned. “Not yours anyway.”

“What life?” I narrowed my gaze. “Who are you?”

She smiled. “Not someone you should ask questions of. The less you know of me now, the better.”

The Hermit coughed. “Maybe save the riddles for another day. Just know, Princess, she is here to help you on your mission. And keep Olivay safe.”

“Olivay?” I asked.

And suddenly, from behind the stone walls of the cave, there was the unmistakable sound of a girl crying out for help.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

“She’s here? In this cave?” My stomach turned. “Olivay’s the meal you sent for?”

The Hermit shrugged. “What did you expect? She can’t exactly stay in Lafir Castle at the same time that you’re there.”

I whirled on him. “So you kidnapped her?”

“Again, where do you think she should be? With the prince, drinking tea? Roaming free until she enters the same room of the castle as you and reveals you’re a fake? A Demonos? She needs to be out of the picture to clear the way for you. And you needed to see her so you could study her face and mannerisms. Plus, there’s the little matter you keep reminding me of—you need to feed. Did you think I’d bring someone else in to see what we were up to? Create another possibility of our plot being discovered? Bringing her here felt like a pretty well thought out solution to several problems we were facing.”

“But you’ve kidnapped her!” I pinched the bridge of my nose. “Taken her away from her home⁠—”

“She wasn’t home.”

“And her family⁠—”

“Who are about to abandon her in a foreign country.”